


Coddle

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jus' kill me," Rodney mumbled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coddle

**Author's Note:**

> For davincis_girl who requested 'John/Rodney, one sick in bed.'

"Jus' kill me," Rodney mumbled. He lay flat on his back under the comforter, contemplating the copper-and-blue pattern of the ceiling and the possibility of his own demise. He'd faced Wraith and malfunctioning Ancient tech and Genii with sharp and terrible knives, and yet this was what his obituary would say: Rodney McKay, taken at a young—yet still brilliant—age by the horrible effects of—

"You've got the Gernian flu," John said, depositing a large glass of blackcurrant juice and a big bottle of Ibuprofen on the dresser beside their bed. "Stuffed-up nose and a sore throat never killed anyone."

"I am swarming with germs," Rodney said miserably. He ached all over and his sinuses throbbed and the only thing his beautiful, beautiful brain was good for anymore was reminding him of all the ways it could be liquified by the insidious after-effects of bacteria. "Brains."

John blinked down at him. "Okay, buddy."

Rodney realised that perhaps that could be taken as a non sequitur. "Brains are highly important," he said with as much dignity as he could muster, before sneezing hard enough to make all the bones in his face ache.

"Studies have shown that," John agreed amiably. He held out a fistful of Ibuprofen and said, "Take," and then the glass of juice and said, "Swallow."

"Bully," Rodney said when he subsided back against his pillow. It was still early afternoon, but he could feel his eyelids grow heavy.

"Total sadist," John said cheerfully. "Which is why now I'm telling you to a nap."

"I protest," Rodney said feebly, but John was tucking in the comforter around him and he was warm and the room was pleasantly dim and maybe he could stand to rest, just a little bit.

"Sure you do," John said, and kissed Rodney's temple, his cheekbone, the tip of his nose. "Be back later, and I'll be even more horrible to you then, okay?"

"'kay," Rodney said, and let himself drift—John was pretty good about keeping his promises.


End file.
